<h4>Chapter 1246: The Ship to the South</h4>


    <strong>Trantor:</strong> Transn <strong>Editor:</strong> Transn


    As White had suggested, Manfeld found that nobody waited for him after the coach departed. He was surrounded by strangers.


    However, he did not feel very frustrated about theck of appreciation because he did that simply because that he thought this was the right thing to do.


    Manfeld soon found the registration desk based on the information provided by the coachman. In fact, a banner was hung over that area, which attracted many passers-by.


    Although there were lots of people, the registration proceeded in an orderly fashion. Iron bars segmented the crowd, and there formed a huge lineup between the entrance and the registration desk. Refugees were thus directed into a temporary “passage”, along which they shuffled forward slowly.


    A Graycastle soldier received Manfeld. All the clerks were wearing the same uniform, so it was easy to distinguish them.


    “Name?”


    “Manfeld Castein.”


    “Identity? Any criminal records? What’s your expertise?”


    The inquiry was just as what the coachman had told him. Manfeld answered all the questions truthfully and did not dwell upon his family and background. He was about to talk more about his expertise when the soldier suddenly interrupted him after hearing him say he could read and write. “That’ll do. Trestle No. 6. This is your boarding pass. Don’t lose it. Next.”


    Manfeld was immediately pushed out of the queue into the dock area before he realized that the registration was over.


    <i>“Well... that’s it?”</i>


    So the coachman was right then? One could live a very good life in Graycastle as long as he could read and write. But it appeared that everyone in Graycastle was literate. Manfeld had noticed that while he was waiting, the registration clerks were changing all the time. Sometimes, they would ask a soldier who maintained the order to take their shift temporarily, and nothing had gone wrong.


    Manfeld felt very confused.


    Also, the boarding pass was a little strange too. It was an iron te, with a rope attached to one end so that he could actually wear it like a ne. There was a series of engraved symbols and numbers on the te. It would not cost much to make such a small te, but it would be a different story if every refugee had such a te.


    Castein’s family used to own a cksmith workshop, so he knew what that meant. A cksmith could use leftover materials to make an iron te, but he would need tons of materials to make 100 or 1,000 of them. It would only take a cksmith half a day to engrave those symbols, but it would take a much longer time to repeat the same process over and over again.


    However, there were more than 1,000 people at the port.


    If this was what happened at the Sedimentation Bay every day, then they would need hundreds of thousands of iron tes! It was unimaginable how many resources and how much time they would need to distribute an iron te like this to every single refugee. It would probably still not enough even if they summoned all the cksmith in the Kingdom of Wolfheart.


    Manfeld now had glimpse of Graycastle’s immense wealth.


    Kingdom of Dawn used to be the wealthiest kingdom on this continent.


    Amazed and surprised, Manfeld boarded a three-masted ship.


    He was led into a cabin shared by 10 people, which was a lot better than what he had expected. He had thought that he might have to sleep in a warehouse. Manfeld was not sure if this was because he could read and write. Nevertheless, the stinky smell in the cabin was intolerable. Although his family had lost their past glory, he used to, at least, sleep in afortable bedroom.


    Therefore, Manfeld immediately got out of the cabin and went to the deck to get some fresh air. Just at that moment, he heard someone calling for help.


    The voice seemed to being from the end of the hallway.


    Since not many people were on the ship and the sailors were busy working on the upper deck, the cabin was a little empty. Nobody except him had heard that voice.


    Manfeld thus went in the direction that voice came from.


    There was a storage room at the end of the hallway, and Manfeld gathered that few people except crew members woulde here. He pressed his face onto the door and heard noises inside, as though someone was struggling.


    Manfeld soon stepped back and threw himself against the door. The door was flung open.


    Manfeld was taken aback by what he saw.


    He did not expect to see a familiar face here. The middle-aged noble whom he had met in the coach was standing in the storage room while his two servants were trying to push twodies down to the ground and tie them up. Thedies were gagged. Inarticte groans escaped from their lips. Apparently, they were brought here by force.


    “Hey, isn’t this the righteous fool on the coach?” the noble drawled. “If I remember correctly, you’re a noble as well, right? I’m Mick Kinley. What about you?”


    “Manfeld Castein,” Manfeld pronounced his name for the third time. He noticed that as soon as he announced his name, the hope in thedies’ eyes faded out, and they also stopped struggling.


    “Castein? I’ve never heard of this name,” the middle-aged man said while shrugging. “But you’re lucky. Since you came here, I’ll kindly share thedies with you, but you’ll have to wait.”


    “Release them,” Manfeld said heavily.


    “Huh?” Mick Kinley squinted and said, “Are you out of your freaking mind? Do you know who they are? They’re ves! And God knows how many people have used them. I’m very surprised that I found these two little things on the ship. There’s no reason that their master would let them go. So, now, it’s very simple. They escaped from their master. You still want to save them?”


    Escaped ves were the most inferior ves, who were not very different from animals. Therefore, nobles could literally do anything to them.


    However, Manfeld had his own principles.


    “Everyone doing it doesn’t mean it’s right.”


    “This ship is heading to Graycastle, right?”


    “... What’s your point?” Mick Kinley snarled.


    “You should have heard what those Graycasle men said. The Wimbledons has abolished very. Therefore, the moment they boarded ship, they were no longer ves,” Manfeld insisted defiantly. “And don’t you forget that there’s a second screening after we get off the ship. They’ll ask you whether you have criminal records. If I tell you what you did on the ship to these twodies, do you think Graycastle men would let you go?”


    “What are you going to do if I insist?” Mick Kinley said through his clenched teeth.


    “You have to beat me first,” Manfeld said as he rolled up his sleeves. “I’m a knight — ”


    No sooner had he finished than Mick Kinley threw himself toward him.


    It was a quick battle.


    Mick Kinley’s servants had apparently also received formal training. Manfeld was soon impaled in the small, narrow storage room. Mick Kinley kicked his bruised face.


    “This is all you can do? I thought your swords are as sharp as your words,” Mick Kinley spatted. “Sh*t. Such bad luck! I’ll leave these two sluts to you, but don’t you forget that ves will always be ves, no matter where they go! What a fool! Let’s go!”


    Mick Kinley mmed the door behind him, and the next moment, the three impaled were left alone in the stuffy storage room.